


Hurt

by CasaByers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drama, F/M, This might become multi chapter, a what if kinda deal, if I get comments saying post more I’ll post more, ill add more tags later, jancy all the why, this might be a one shot, twd inspired but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasaByers/pseuds/CasaByers
Summary: They couldn’t close it.





	Hurt

Jonathan sat staring straight ahead, he looked tired, worn down, he scratched at the few days of growth on his jaw, closed his eyes for a moment, he listened to the wind, leaves rustling… he took in a deep breath before he stood up, grabbing the rifle that was resting on the table in front of him. 

He picked up the backpack that he left on the floor and exited the diner.

Benny’s Diner was oddly not touched, rust had started to form on some of the chrome chairs, vines were inching their way inside between cracks in the foundation, but the glass hadn’t been broek out. But it wasn’t a safe place to stay, too many windows, not enough walls.

Jonathan had gone in hoping to locate some food but it had already been raided it seemed, so he put his backpack back on and put the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, felt his hip for the handgun he now carried and started to walk towards the center of town.

He wasn’t wandering aimlessly, he had a goal in mind, as heartbreaking as coming back here was for him. But he had to come back. 

Daytime was usually safe, you could see everything, know who was approaching you… human or… other. Nightfall was when it was dangerous to be outside, nighttime seemed to be when they thrived, it mimicked their first home better.

Not that daytime was better for him, it was as if everything was cast in a permanent winter, it was a nuclear winter of sorts, that's how he rationalized it, darker sooner, sun barely came out, a haze… cold all the time.

The cars and business he walked past… all oddly familiar, were not overgrown with vines, some of the green variety, some that were not, all dying or in the process of doing so.

Hawkins was a ghost town now, much like everywhere else.

He wondered why he was spared sometimes, was it immunity? He didn’t know, he wanted to rationalize the why, but eh wasn’t even sure of the how or the… where.

One thing he knew was that, there were ways to find out. He had to avoid the bigger cities, bigger cities had more humans had more others, bigger cities were dangerous and cruel.

Why they had moved to New York… it all happened so fast and everyone was just gone.

Everyone he cared about anyway.

He finally found what he was looking for, he took in a deep breath and walked up the steps, Hawkins Sheriff's Office.

It was left in the same state as the other buildings, vines, overgrown plants, busted out windows.

He carefully pushed the ajar door open and peeked inside, dark and smelled musty, he heard no sound, so he entered the premises.

He made his way past the first few offices and then froze when he saw the framed photo. Chief Jim Hopper looked on proudly, Jonathan sighed and kept walking.

When he entered the dispatch room, he carefully shut the door behind him and switched the door lock, it was dark in the small office, but he turned on his flashlight, dropped his backpack and quickly sat in the chair.

There was an old ham radio on the desk, and he had enough practice trying to get these things to work in the last six months. 

He switched it on and his eyes got wide with wonder when it seemed to work.

He quickly leaned in close, listened to the static as he switched the channels.

He squeezed his eyes shot, and used his voice for what felt like the first time in months, “this is Jonathan Byers calling from Indiana, if any of you are out there, please reply, please let me find you.” he said it as clearly as he could into the radio, he swallowed the lump. More static, he pressed the button again, “this is Jonathan Byers, please… copy…” he nearly whispered the last part.

There was no reply, so he tried another channel, he had a goal, try each channel twice, then once he got through them all.. Start over.. He had nothing but time.

He was sitting on the floor, several hours later, staring into the darkness, he’d heard something outside, so he paused, He’d made it this far and he wasn’t going to be taken out. Not with a little bit of hope still in him.

He almost laughed, hope, he had non left, that was a joke. This was a fool's mission, it was stupid. But he still tried. 

He still tried.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have time to, he had to fix this.

The static on the radio gave his heart a start, he nearly felt sick, he didn’t want to feel hope, he didn’t want to think it was going to be okay.

He waited and listened…

“Jonathan?” the weirdly broken and yet familiar voice shattered his whole soul, he scrambled to his feet and slammed into the desk, he winced, but the pain was good, the pain meant this was real. He took a steady breath and pressed the button, “Nancy?” he asked.

He waited for static, for a reply. 

Suddenly, the lights started to flicker, his eyes got wide, there was no longer any electricity, there was only one thing that would make the lights surge, he was torn between trying to talk on the radio and protecting himself. 

A loud thud just outside the door in the hall chose for him, he spun around and picked up the rifle, checked that it was loaded and waited, he felt this feeling of dread, pure dread, like he was about to die… and just when he had finally had some hope… maybe this was hell.

He heard the thuds and that sound, the sound they made, he hated that sound, knew that sound well, it found him, the door wouln;t hold it back.

“Jonathan come in, where are you?” that voice asked, broken and scratched, he nearly wept, if he went to the radio now he’d be a goner, he had to ignore it, he had to survive. 

The radio kept coming in and out, the thumping kept coming, and then it was quiet, lights were out. He let out a breath, knowing what was coming next.

The lights got bright and the sound was screaming as it burst through the door.

He aimed and shot….

TBC?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know with a comment if y’all would like more chapters! It if this is good enough for that. Otherwise this is a one shot.


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